


What's in a kiss?

by Amymel86



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Modern AU, One Shot, Teens, horny teens, shy teens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 06:59:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13712376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: Sansa let out a soft huff that Jon’s sure he would have missed had he not been currently staring at her mouth. “I want you to kiss me because I trust you, and because I’ve never been kissed-” she repeated her earlier request - but it was that last part that totally bowled Jon over, how in all the worlds has Sansa Stark -Sansa Fucking Stark- never been kissed? It just does not compute. In which parallel universe have those lips and that mouth never been explored? This one apparently, Jon thinks to himself as his own tongue glides along his bottom lip in anticipation. “And Jeyne said that-” Jon shook his head, the world coming back into focus as he only just now realised that she was in fact, still talking, “-that a kiss can make you shiver right down to your toes, or make you feel as if your hair’s standing on end like there’s electricity running through your whole body.”Jon snorted. “Who has Jeyne been kissing, exactly?”





	What's in a kiss?

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to...I mean,” Sansa averted her eyes from his, focusing instead on the way her pink socked toe worked into the lush cream carpet of the Stark’s formal living room, “I-I only really asked you because I trust you not to laugh at me or anything.”

Jon blinked at her, a wisp of a half chuckle breathing from his lips. How could anyone laugh at  _Sansa Stark?_  She’s...well,  _she’s Sansa Stark!_ He straightened his features, his expression obviously looking more  _amused_  rather than the  _bemused_  he was feeling. She looked a little hurt and Jon realised he’d mucked this up entirely by one involuntary twitch of his mouth. He quickly cleared his throat and hoped to steer things back in the right direction. “I would never laugh at you Sansa,” he said with all sincerity, “but...is that a good idea? I mean...your brother-”

“Robb has gone to footy practice early,” Sansa supplied, chewing on her lip. “Mum and Dad have taken Arya and the boys to the pizza place near the arcade.”

“So...it’s just us?”

“Yeah...just us.”

Jon shifted his weight on his feet and fiddled with the cuff of his hoodie. “I...um...w-why do you want to do this again?”

Sansa let out a soft huff that Jon’s sure he would have missed had he not been currently staring at her mouth. “I want you to kiss me because I trust you, and because I’ve never been kissed-” she repeated her earlier request - but it was that last part that totally bowled Jon over, how in all the worlds has Sansa Stark - _Sansa Fucking Stark_ \- never been kissed? It just  _does not compute_. In which parallel universe have those lips and that mouth never been explored?  _This one apparently,_  Jon thinks to himself as his own tongue glides along his bottom lip in anticipation. “And Jeyne said that-” Jon shook his head, the world coming back into focus as he only just now realised that she was in fact, still talking, “-that a kiss can make you shiver right down to your toes, or make you feel as if your hair’s standing on end like there’s electricity running through your whole body.”

Jon snorted. “ _Who_ has Jeyne been kissing, exactly?”

Sansa thwacked him lightly on the chest. “Don’t laugh! I asked you because I thought you wouldn’t laugh!” she admonished, although Jon spied a smile trying to break its way through to her lips. “And you know she’s been messing around with Theon so why’d you even ask?”

“Alright, alright,” Jon laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. “I guess I’ll have to get some tips from Theon then.” Jon hated how much of that statement was true. He’d dated Ygritte for a couple of weeks last year but hadn’t got much further than making out in his car with his hand up her sweater, and to be completely honest, she’d most definitely done the leading in all of their dalliances, so what does he really know anyway? Maybe you are meant to feel like your hair’s on end and your toes are shivering, or whatever. “I guess…um…you can kiss me, if you want?” he mumbled.

Sansa shook her head and for a moment, Jon wondered if he’d somehow mucked this up all over again. “No, I want  _you_  to kiss  _me_ ,” she clarified.

Jon’s gaze dropped to her lips once more and he swears his own mouth both goes dry and salivates at the same time. “Uh…s-sure…if you want me to?” Sansa only smiles demurely with the tiniest of nods and Jon figures that he might never get this chance again, so he  _should_  be approaching her, he  _should_  be tenderly cupping her cheek, his thumb making hypnotizing sweeps across her delicate skin, he  _should_  press his lips to hers softly and wait for her to melt into his touch, he  _should_  then gather her up in his arms and coax her lips to part under his attention to lick into her and slide his tongue against hers, he  _should_  take his time tasting her, feeling her shiver and whimper against him, and then maybe she’d let him snake his hand up past that sliver of skin he spies at the hem of her top and squeeze-

“You don’t have to kiss me if you don’t want t-“ Sansa interrupts his mid-afternoon Sansa-induced reverie, obviously misreading the dopey look on his face. Quickly realizing that he was  _yet again_ , mucking this all up, Jon had lunged for her lips, having to grab ahold of her shoulders to steady her from the force of his kiss. He feels sloppy and unpracticed, their teeth clashing and his tongue desperate to taste every corner of her. Sansa’s surprised yelp bleeds into Jon’s satisfied groan. She tastes like lemon sherbet and springtime  _-and fuck-_  how is he meant to carry on now that he knows this?

When he reluctantly releases her lips, Sansa blinks up at him, a dazed look upon her face and  _Christ_ , he wants to kiss her all over again to chase that shiver down his spine and recapture that tingle in his toes. “H-how was that?” he breathes, staring at her mouth and wishing he was back there all over again.

“Umm…” Sansa’s brows knit together as a tentative hand comes to brush against her lips - _shit_ \- he  _really has_  fucked this all up now because she’s not swooning about how it had felt to have his tongue dance with hers, or the way he held her  _‘just so’_. No - instead she’s looking a little glazed over and confused, and like any moment now she’s going to snap out of it and laugh in his face about his eager teenage mouth hungrily devouring her like some kind of horny…well… _eager_   _teenager._ “I’m not sure,” Sansa manages to say, eliciting a wince from Jon.  _Bloody hell,_  he thinks,  _it would have been better if she’d never asked me to do this. Then I’d never would’ve known._  His eyes focus in on her mouth again. “Can we-“ she interrupts his rapid slide into melancholy, “-can we maybe, try again?”

Jon sucks in a breath and replays her words in his head, just to make sure that he’d not imagined it. She’s looking apprehensively at him now and he releases he has to respond instead of standing there like a mute. He only manages to nod though and concedes that being a mute isn’t so bad as long as he gets to taste her lemon sherbet lips again.

“Could you perhaps…um…kiss my neck?” Sansa asks, her fingers fiddling together, “Jeyne says that feels really nice.”

“I’ll kiss you anywhere you want, Sansa,” the no longer mute Jon blurts, gaining a wide-eyed look from the girl in question, before her lips morph into a smirk.

 _“Anywhere?”_  she asks, her eyes narrowed as she side-eyes him teasingly, the word laced heavily with innuendo.

 _Fuck it_ , he thinks, nodding his head with sincere enthusiasm.  _I absolutely would kiss you anywhere, especially the place I bet you’re thinking of right now._

“Oh,” Sansa says in soft realization that they’ve both landed on the same page. “You would...um…” she looks down, studying the little hearts on her pink socks. Her hair falls forward like a silk curtain of red and Jon’s _itching_  to wrap it around his hand or bury his nose in it. “You wouldn’t mind doing… _that?”_

“No,” he assures, “I’d…I’d really like to do… _that_ …if you’d let me?”

Sansa purses her lips as she considers him for a moment as Jon holds his breath captive in his lungs. Silently, she nods and reaches to slip her delicate hand in his. He looks down at their joined hands, not able to control the smile on his face.

“Hellooo,” Robb suddenly calls from the front door, “practice was cut short, coach’s wife started having contractions.”

Their hands drop and Jon takes a step back from Sansa as they hear the studs of Robb’s football boots click against the tiles on the kitchen floor. The noise of fridge door being yanked open is followed by a groan. “Hasn’t Mum cooked anything?” he calls out, “Sans?...Jon?”

“Mum and everyone have gone to eat out!” Sansa hollers back.

“Eat out?”

“Yeah,  _eat out_ ,” she says, another smirk gracing her lips, “Jon was going to  _eat out_  but it looks like he can’t anymore.” Jon feels his cheeks heat and he’s sure the tips of his ears are tinged hot pink.

“What?” Robb asks in confusion, turning the corner to look at them as he pops open a can of coke and leans against the door-frame.

Sansa shrugs. “He was going to eat out, but now he can’t,” she explains like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Jon widens his eyes at her in warning. Robb may be oblivious to some things but Jon would rather not take the risk – especially if, down the road, he and Sansa take things any further and  _-he hopes-_  become a  _‘thing’_. There’s no way that Robb isn’t going to look back and analyse the shit out of every interaction like this. Sansa smiles at him none-the-less, a wicked gleam in her eye that momentarily dazzles him. “Maybe he’ll get lucky and be able to eat out tomorrow?...after his last class at 3pm…for example?”

“Yes!” Jon blurts, “I mean, yeah-yeah…umm…that could be cool…ahh…”

“So…” Sansa continues, swinging her hips where she stands, obviously revelling in his discomfort, “you’d start at your house,” she says pointedly directly at Jon, “when you’re Mum’s still working her shift at the hospital…and you’d be alone…then you’d… _eat out_ …yeah?”

“Jesus fucking Christ Sansa!” Robb exclaims, “are you asking Jon out on a date or something?”

Sansa’s teeth sink into her bottom lip in an attempt to hold back her laughter. “ _Something_  like that, yeah.”

“Well just ask the man on a date then!” Robb huffs, “don’t talk in riddles! See…this is why women say we don’t  _‘get’_  them. Just be direct for Christ sake!”

“Alright,” Sansa says, her eyes flicking from her brother back to Jon, her smile both demure and teasing at the same time. “Will you go on a date with me, Jon? At your house, tomorrow?”

“Y-yeah, Jon stammers, not quite sure he hasn’t stumbled into an alternate reality where he manages to be granted everything he’s ever wanted. “Yeah, I’d love that.”

“Too right you would, Snow,” Robb comes up behind him and clasps him on the shoulder. “Now, if you two are actually gonna become a ‘thing’, I’ve got to warn you that you better be good to her and give her all the attention she deserves. Got that?”

Jon only just manages not to lick his lips like a hungry salivating dog as he returns Sansa’s smirk. “Oh I think I can manage that.”

 


End file.
